Greatly to Muskwa's relief the three men soon turned away from him and
began to busy themselves about the fire. This gave him a chance to escape,
and he pulled and tugged at the end of the rope until he nearly choked
himself to death. Finally he gave up in despair, and crumpling himself up
against the foot of the balsam he began to watch the camp.
He was not more than thirty feet from the fire. Bruce was washing his hands
in a canvas basin. Langdon was mopping his face with a towel. Close to the
fire Metoosin was kneeling, and from the big black skittle he was holding
over the coals came the hissing and sputtering of fat caribou steaks, and
about the pleasantest smell that had ever come Muskwa's way. The air all
about him was heavy with the aroma of good things.
When Langdon had finished drying his face he opened a can of something. It
was sweetened condensed milk. He poured the white fluid into a basin, and
came with it toward Muskwa. The cub had unsuccessfully attempted flight on
the ground until his neck was sore; now he climbed the tree. He went up so
quickly that Langdon was astonished, and he snarled and spat at the man as
the basin of milk was placed where he would almost fall into it when he
came down.
Muskwa remained at the end of his rope up the tree, and for a long time the
hunters paid no more attention to him. He could see them eating and he
could hear them talking as they planned a new campaign against Thor.
"We've got to trick him after what happened to-day," declared Bruce. "No
more tracking 'im after this, Jimmy. We can track until doomsday an' he'll
always know where we are." He paused for a moment and listened. "Funny the
dogs don't come," he said. "I wonder--"
He looked at Langdon.
"Impossible!" exclaimed the latter, as he read the significance of his
companion's look. "Bruce, you don't mean to say that bear might kill them
all!"
"I've hunted a good many grizzlies," replied the mountaineer quietly, "but
I ain't never hunted a trickier one than this. Jimmy, he trapped them dogs
on the ledge, an' he tricked the dog he killed up on the peak. He's liable
to get 'em all into a corner, an' if that happens--"
He shrugged his shoulders suggestively.
Again Langdon listened.
"If there were any alive at dark they should be here pretty soon," he said.
"I'm sorry, now--sorry we didn't leave the dogs at home."
Bruce laughed a little grimly.
"Fortunes o' war, Jimmy," he said. "You don't go hunting grizzlies with a
pack of lapdogs, an' you've got to expect to lose some of them sooner or
later. We've tackled the wrong bear, that's all. He's beat us."
"Beat us?"
"I mean he's beat us in a square game, an' we dealt a raw hand at that in
using dogs at all. Do you want that bear bad enough to go after him my
way?"
Langdon nodded.
"What's your scheme?"
"You've got to drop pretty idees when you go grizzly hunting," began
Bruce. "And especially when you run up against a 'killer.' There won't be
any hour between now an' denning-up time that this grizzly doesn't get the
wind from all directions. How? He'll make detours. I'll bet if there was
snow on the ground you'd find him back-tracking two miles out of every six,
so he can get the wind of anything that's following him. An' he'll travel
mostly nights, layin' high up in the rocks an' shale during the day. If you
want any more shootin', there's just two things to do, an' the best of them
two things is to move on and find other bears."
"Which I won't do, Bruce. What's your scheme for getting this one?"
Bruce was silent for several moments before he replied.
"We've got his range mapped out to a mile," he said then. "It begins up at
the first break we crossed, an' it ends down here where we came into this
valley. It's about twenty-five miles up an' down. He don't touch the
mount'ins west of this valley nor the mount'ins east of the other valleys
an' he's dead certain to keep on makin' circles so long as we're after
him. He's hikin' southward now on the other side of the range.
"We'll lay here for a few days an' not move. Then we'll start Metoosin
through the valley over there with the dogs, if there's any left, and we'll
start south through this valley at the same time. One of us will keep to
the slopes an' the other to the bottom, an' we'll travel slow. Get the
idee?
"That grizzly won't leave his country, an' Metoosin is pretty near bound to
drive him around to us. We'll let him do the open hunting an' we'll skulk.
The bear can't get past us both without giving one of us shooting."
"It sounds good," agreed Langdon. "And I've got a lame knee that I'm not
unwilling to nurse for a few days."
Scarcely were the words out of Langdon's mouth when a sudden rattle of
hobble-chains and the startled snort of a grazing horse out in the meadow
brought them both to their feet.
"Utim!" whispered Metoosin, his dark face aglow in the firelight.
"You're right--the dogs," said Bruce, and he whistled softly.
They heard a movement in the brush near them, and a moment later two of
the dogs came into the firelight. They slunk in, half on their bellies, and
as they prostrated themselves at the hunters' feet a third and a fourth
joined them.
They were not like the pack that had gone out that morning. There were deep
hollows in their sides; their wiry crests were flat; they were hard run,
and they knew that they were beaten. Their aggressiveness was gone, and
they had the appearance of whipped curs.
A fifth came in out of the night. He was limping, and dragging a torn
foreleg. The head and throat of one of the others was red with blood. They
all lay flat on their bellies, as if expecting condemnation.
"We have failed," their attitude said; "we are beaten, and this is all of
us that are left."
Mutely Bruce and Langdon stared at them. They listened--waited. No other
came. And then they looked at each other.
"Two more of them gone," said Langdon.
Bruce turned to a pile of panniers and canvases and pulled out the
dog-leashes. Up in his tree Muskwa was all atremble. Within a few yards of
him he saw again the white-fanged horde that had chased Thor and had
driven him into the rock-crevice. Of the men he was no longer greatly
afraid. They had attempted him no harm, and he had ceased to quake and
snarl when one of them passed near. But the dogs were monsters. They had
given battle to Thor. They must have beaten him, for Thor had run away.
The tree to which Muskwa was fastened was not much more than a sapling, and
he lay in the saddle of a crotch five feet from the ground when Metoosin
led one of the dogs past him. The Airedale saw him and made a sudden spring
that tore the leash from the Indian's hand. His leap carried him almost up
to Muskwa. He was about to make another spring when Langdon rushed forward
with a fierce cry, caught the dog by his collar, and with the end of the
leash gave him a sound beating. Then he led him away.
This act puzzled Muskwa more than ever. The man had saved him. He had
beaten the monster with the red mouth and the white fangs, and all of those
monsters were now being taken away at the end of ropes.
When Langdon returned he stopped close to Muskwa's tree and talked to him.
Muskwa allowed Langdon's hand to approach within six inches of him, and did
not snap at it. Then a strange and sudden thrill shot through him. While
his head was turned a little Langdon had boldly put his hand on his furry
back. And in the touch there was not hurt! His mother had never put her paw
on him as gently as that!
Half a dozen times in the next ten minutes Langdon touched him. For the
first three or four times Muskwa bared his two rows of shining teeth, but
he made no sound. Gradually he ceased even to bare his teeth.
Langdon left him then, and in a few moments he returned with a chunk of raw
caribou meat. He held this close to Muskwa's nose. Muskwa could smell it,
but he backed away from it, and at last Langdon placed it beside the basin
at the foot of the tree and returned to where Bruce was smoking.
"Inside of two days he'll be eating out of my hand," he said.
It was not long before the camp became very quiet. Langdon, Bruce, and the
Indian rolled themselves in their blankets and were soon asleep. The fire
burned lower and lower. Soon there was only a single smouldering log. An
owl hooted a little deeper in the timber. The drone of the valley and the
mountains filled the peaceful night. The stars grew brighter. Far away
Muskwa heard the rumbling of a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain.
There was nothing to fear now. Everything was still and asleep but himself,
and very cautiously he began to back down the tree. He reached the foot of
it, loosed his hold, and half fell into the basin of condensed milk, a part
of it slopping up over his face. Involuntarily he shot out his tongue and
licked his chops, and the sweet, sticky stuff that it gathered filled him
with a sudden and entirely unexpected pleasure. For a quarter of an hour he
licked himself. And then, as if the secret of this delightful ambrosia had
just dawned upon him, his bright little eyes fixed themselves covetously
upon the tin basin. He approached it with commendable strategy and caution,
circling first on one side of it and then on the other, every muscle in his
body prepared for a quick spring backward if it should make a jump for
him. At last his nose touched the thick, luscious feast in the basin, and
he did not raise his head again until the last drop of it was gone.
The condensed milk was the one biggest factor in the civilizing of Muskwa.
It was the missing link that connected certain things in his lively little
mind. He knew that the same hand that had touched him so gently had also
placed this strange and wonderful feast at the foot of his tree, and that
same hand had also offered him meat. He did not eat the meat, but he licked
the interior of the basin until it shone like a mirror in the starlight.
In spite of the milk, he was still filled with a desire to escape, though
his efforts were not as frantic and unreasoning as they had been.
Experience had taught him that it was futile to jump and tug at the end of
his leash, and now he fell to chewing at the rope. Had he gnawed in one
place he would probably have won freedom before morning, but when his jaws
became tired he rested, and when he resumed his work it was usually at a
fresh place in the rope. By midnight his gums were sore, and he gave up his
exertions entirely.
Humped close to the tree, ready to climb up it at the first sign of
danger, the cub waited for morning. Not a wink did he sleep. Even though he
was less afraid than he had been, he was terribly lonesome. He missed Thor,
and he whimpered so softly that the men a few yards away could not have
heard him had they been awake. If Pipoonaskoos had come into the camp then
he would have welcomed him joyfully.
Morning came, and Metoosin was the first out of his blankets. He built a
fire, and this roused Bruce and Langdon. The latter, after he had dressed
himself, paid a visit to Muskwa, and when he found the basin licked clean
he showed his pleasure by calling the others' attention to what had
happened.
Muskwa had climbed to his crotch in the tree, and again he tolerated the
stroking touch of Langdon's hand. Then Langdon brought forth another can
from a cowhide pannier and opened it directly under Muskwa, so that he
could see the creamy white fluid as it was turned into the basin. He held
the basin up to Muskwa, so close that the milk touched the cub's nose, and
for the life of him Muskwa could not keep his tongue in his mouth. Inside
of five minutes he was eating from the basin in Langdon's hand! But when
Bruce came up to watch the proceedings the cub bared all his teeth and
snarled.
"Bears make better pets than dogs," affirmed Bruce a little later, when
they were eating breakfast. "He'll be following you around like a puppy in
a few days, Jimmy."
"I'm getting fond of the little cuss already," replied Langdon. "What was
that you were telling me about Jameson's bears, Bruce?"
"Jameson lived up in the Kootenay country," said Bruce. "Reg'lar hermit, I
guess you'd call him. Came out of the mountains only twice a year to get
grub. He made pets of grizzlies. For years he had one as big as this fellow
we're chasing. He got 'im when a cub, an 'when I saw him he weighed a
thousand pounds an' followed Jameson wherever he went like a dog. Even went
on his hunts with him, an 'they slept beside the same campfire. Jameson
loved bears, an' he'd never kill one."
Langdon was silent. After a moment he said: "And I'm beginning to love
them, Bruce. I don't know just why, but there's something about bears that
makes you love them. I'm not going to shoot many more--perhaps none after
we get this dog-killer we're after. I almost believe he will be my last
bear." Suddenly he clenched his hands, and added angrily: "And to think
there isn't a province in the Dominion or a state south of the Border that
has a 'closed season' for bear! It's an outrage, Bruce. They're classed
with vermin, and can be exterminated at all seasons. They can even be dug
out of their dens with their young--and--so help me Heaven!--I've helped to
dig them out! We're beasts, Bruce. Sometimes I almost think it's a crime
for a man to carry a gun. And yet--I go on killing."
"It's in our blood," laughed Bruce, unmoved. "Did you ever know a man,
Jimmy, that didn't like to see things die? Wouldn't every mother's soul of
'em go to a hanging if they had the chance? Won't they crowd like buzzards
round a dead horse to get a look at a man crushed to a pulp under a rock or
a locomotive engine? Why, Jimmie, if there weren't no law to be afraid of,
we humans'd be killing one another for the fun of it! We would. It's born
in us to want to kill."
"And we take it all out on brute creation," mused Langdon. "After all, we
can't have much sympathy for ourselves if a generation or two of us are
killed in war, can we? Mebby you're right, Bruce. Inasmuch as we can't kill
our neighbours legally whenever we have the inclination, it's possible the
Chief Arbiter of things sends us a war now and then to relieve us
temporarily of our blood-thirstiness. Hello, what in thunder is the cub up
to now?"
Muskwa had fallen the wrong way out of his crotch and was dangling like the
victim at the end of a hangman's rope. Langdon ran to him, caught him
boldly in his bare hands, lifted him up over the limb and placed him on the
ground. Muskwa did not snap at him or even growl.
Bruce and Metoosin were away from camp all of that day, spying over the
range to the westward, and Langdon was left to doctor a knee which he had
battered against a rock the previous day. He spent most of his time in
company with Muskwa. He opened a can of their griddle-cake syrup and by
noon he had the cub following him about the tree and straining to reach the
dish which he held temptingly just out of reach. Then he would sit down,
and Muskwa would climb half over his lap to reach the syrup.
At his present age Muskwa's affection and confidence were easily won. A
baby black bear is very much like a human baby: he likes milk, he loves
sweet things, and he wants to cuddle up close to any living thing that is
good to him. He is the most lovable creature on four legs--round and soft
and fluffy, and so funny that he is sure to keep every one about him in
good humour. More than once that day Langdon laughed until the tears came,
and especially when Muskwa made determined efforts to climb up his leg to
reach the dish of syrup.
As for Muskwa, he had gone syrup mad. He could not remember that his mother
had ever given him anything like it, and Thor had produced nothing better
than fish.
Late in the afternoon Langdon untied Muskwa's rope and led him for a stroll
down toward the creek. He carried the syrup dish and every few yards he
would pause and let the cub have a taste of its contents. After half an
hour of this manoeuvring he dropped his end of the leash entirely, and
walked campward. And Muskwa followed! It was a triumph, and in Langdon's
veins there pulsed a pleasurable thrill which his life in the open had
never brought to him before.
It was late when Metoosin returned, and he was quite surprised that Bruce
had not shown up. Darkness came, and they built up the fire. They were
finishing supper an hour later when Bruce came in, carrying something swung
over his shoulders. He tossed it close to where Muskwa was hidden behind
his tree.
"A skin like velvet, and some meat for the dogs," he said. "I shot it with
my pistol."
He sat down and began eating. After a little Muskwa cautiously approached
the carcass that lay doubled up three or four feet from him. He smelled of
it, and a curious thrill shot through him. Then he whimpered softly as he
muzzled the soft fur, still warm with life. And for a time after that he
was very still.
For the thing that Bruce had brought into camp and flung at the foot of his
tree was the dead body of little Pipoonaskoos!